eyes on me
by mirajens
Summary: The best kind of welcome home is when the night ends and she's warm beside him. (Jerza Week, day 5; for thir13enth)


**eyes on me**

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When the lights of his house come to life, the first thing that Jellal sees is the mess. It's not a lot, but it's enough; Jellal is an organized man with a place for everything and he's pretty certain a pair of shiny black shoes strewn seven feet away from each other as if kicked off do not belong there. And are not even his, for that matter. They're strappy and high, something that not even his girlfriend likes wearing because the mere look of it departs such a sheer inconvenience and pain that Jellal cannot understand tolerating. But what does he know about the working of Saint Laurent's shoe maker or the lady's state of mind when she purchased the shoes? Not a lot. He picks them up away, and put the the sandals where he has stepped out of his own shoes.

The next of disarray comes in the form of a crumpled cloth by the foot of his stairs. The material is black, slinky and downy soft and once held up for proper inspection, looks like a dress yet again too short and too thin to be any functional to him. But Erza does have a flair for dressing up, even if this is the most dressed down version of it. He slings it over his arm and makes the trek up the stairs.

At the very top of it, hanging off the knob of a Narra newel post, something lacy. Still black, intricately woven, expensively sold. One of the best pieces of lingerie Erza owned, in his opinion and memory of her impressive collection. His face and neck are red when he takes it and his loudest thought is that it's a shame he didn't see her in it.

He's only half looking for the matching panties when he finds them hooked on the lever handle of the master bedroom. He's practically sweating when he takes them with the other black garments and pushes the door open.

Erza is inside. The shock of her hair is an achingly beautiful contrast against the slate gray of his pillowcases and on the Heaven's mercy, the rest of her is under the matching duvet. She hears the door open, and it's enough to rouse her from the sleep she'd just started falling into. Jellal is already sitting by her head by the time her wine-addled mind tells her facial muscles to smile. "Hello," is all she says. _Hel-llllllo_ , dragging out the _L_ so her tongue flicks behind her upper row of teeth. Her grin is wider than the last when her arm snakes out of the duvet and grabs at his neck tie. Her grip is weak and she almost punches him in the stomach. "Welcome home."

Jellal, despite his nerves, smiles back. She is certainly naked under his covers, he has seen, but she is also drunk, he can tell. He smells her preferred Moscato on her breath. He tries to remember the occasion. Maybe it was Lucy's birthday. "You certainly make it a nice welcome," he responds, kissing her briefly but drawing away just before her tongue can lick against his lips. She looks cheated when he draws back so he pats her hair. "Have fun tonight?"

"Mirajane is always a funny drunk." She's stretching, and he's imagining sinewy limbs sliding against the soft cotton surrounding her. The swell of her breasts are obvious even under the goose feather stuffed comforter. "She might work at a bar but you can just tell she never takes advantage of the supply." Erza's eyes are glassy but hurt. "Why won't you kiss me properly?"

Jellal rises because he just might and both of them know it never stops there. He's dragging his work clothes off as he peruses the closet for something more comfortable. He hurries sticking his legs into basketball shorts and shrugging a thin tshirt over his head. He grabs a twin of it for the lady naked under his covers.

Erza is in the same position he left her at but she looks just a bit angry that he walked away.

"Up you go," he says, taking her hand and helping her rise. He doesn't even stare at her for too long. "If I let you sleep naked I'll die in my sleep." Jellal helps her less cooperative body into the nightshirt and wills his heart rate down.

Erza huffs as she flops back onto the pillows; she knows him too well. "I'm not even that drunk."

Jellal ignores her plight. He knows she trusts him but he's not having sex when she can't even sit up straight. "But I am tired." He says back easily, slipping in beside her so he can draw her against his chest and kiss the top of her head. "Don't pout. You know I'm already not very good at saying no to you."

"Just as well. I'm a sloppy fuck when I'm wasted." Erza conceded, her eyelids drooping and just like that, she's asleep. Jellal doesn't even have time to laugh at what she said.

Truly, the best kind of welcome home is when the night ends and she's warm beside him.

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 **note:** im cursed with the inability to post anything for any couple week on the actual dates. But I took the prompt for home and since I'm a sucker for tadaima/okaeri scenarios, there's this. And dedicated to thir13enth because she's a lovely new buddy


End file.
